Saint of the Deep
by FluffPuffCat
Summary: Aldrich consumes Gwyndolin.
1. The Saint

The dark halls of Anor Londo were quiet as we trudged through. Nothing could stop our intrusion. The silver knights had flung themselves at us. Their spears of lightning and their dragon arrows could not pierce through my flesh. They attacked me, only to discover that their weapons stuck to me as if glued, and then it was only a matter of time before I devoured them or the Pontiff slew them. The deacons that followed me incinerated the knights with their fireballs.

When we entered the main hall, the knights streamed down from the halls. The Pontiff kept them at bay, but I could not move fast. So I left a part of myself behind. A portion of my flesh. It transformed into a many-legged creature with glowing yellow eyes, and it released a foul gas. Any knight that breathed this gas for more than a few seconds found their organs pierced by a cancerous crystal. Then my deacons were able to enter and swarm the place. Now the knights are gone, and my deacons rule the dark halls of Anor Londo.

I had thought that the ruler of Anor Londo, Gwyndolin, would have posed more of a challenge. But he was weak, and so was the pale veiled girl guarding him. I wanted to devour them both. The Pontiff brought them both to their knees with his swords of fire and dark. It would take some time for me to devour a God. But I was hungry, and I craved his flesh. Gwyndolin's flesh. Mere men would not satisfy my taste any longer. I had to eat larger, more powerful creatures.

So Gwyndolin struck a deal with me. As long as I left Yorshka alive, he would allow me to eat him. I agreed to it, though I don't intend to keep this promise. The Pontiff would take the girl away and imprison her so that I could taste her later. For now, I would remain in this room, and Gwyndolin would be mine. I will be able to devour him and taste him and savour the flesh of a God...

"I will be leaving now," Pontiff Sulyvahn said. The fire and light that shone from his blades dimmed. "Gwyndolin will be locked in this room with you."

In my current form, it was such a bother to speak. I cannot remember the location of my mouth or my vocal cords most of the time. In order to be able to produce sound, I had to search for them, deep within the mass of flesh that formed my body, and then I had to line them up in such a way that they could function adequately. It took a great deal of effort, and I wanted to eat my meal already. But I might as well speak.

"Back to Irithyll?" I replied in my old voice.

"Yes. Are you sufficiently pleased with the acquisition of Anor Londo?"

"No. The old Gods are all gone. Had there been more, I would have had a larger feast...but, no. There is only one God left. He is all that I can savour."

"Nevertheless, they will know you now as the Devourer of Gods. I shall make sure of it upon my return to Irithyll."

The Pontiff grabbed Yorshka, putting an arm around her waist. "Let's go."

He left with her, shutting the door behind us. The deacons will be guarding the main hall of Anor Londo so that I can enjoy my feast uninterrupted.

Gwyndolin was standing in front of me. Or floating, or whatever those snakes that protruded out of his dress were doing. There was a fierce expression of defiance upon his face. I could not see his eyes, but from the stiffness of those lips and the tightness of his cheeks, I could tell that he was resisting. He did not intend to go down without a fight, even though we had just forced him to surrender for Yorshka's sake. No matter. It was a foolish resistance, because he was powerless before me. He was not as strong as I. If this was the power of a God, then the Gods have grown weak. I would seek stronger things to devour after I am done with him. There had to be stronger creatures in this world.

The great mass that formed my body inched forward, and I rearranged my insides to form the optimal passage through which food can flow. A part of myself became a long structure, a kind of esophagus, and at its front an orifice appeared. I will begin my consumption of Gwyndolin through this orifice. He was actually quite big. It would be difficult for me to devour him entirely in one bite. Very well, then. I will consume him slowly instead, starting from the bottom. He will just have to suffer a slow and excruciating death. But these slow feasts are better. I can appreciate the taste of his flesh for a longer period of time, and I will be able to relish in his screams.

I moved myself such that I surrounded him. Now, he was turning hostile. He was raising his arms, most likely in preparation of a spell. A flurry of arrows spread out towards me. I absorbed them all. Then, he blasted me with blue magical orbs. These stung. Finally, he summoned up a big sphere of energy and shot it at my orifice. The power of the attack burned my insides as it travelled into my body. This did not matter. I was too big. Any singed flesh within me could easily be regenerated. Now, I will devour Gwyndolin.

He was such an effeminate, pretty man. Smooth skin, slender limbs, long, attractive fingers. His face was delicate, with a small nose and mouth. He resembled the maidens that I had devoured in my past. Except those maidens were weak, while he was strong. Yes, he was a God after all. The Son of Gwyn. He was so defiant, so determined to resist me. I found that resistance titillating. Oh, yes, even in my current form, I could feel those urges. They stemmed from deep within, a sense of raw desire as great as my desire to consume. Gwyndolin was going to satisfy those urges as well.

And so I began devouring Gwyndolin from the bottom, swallowing all of those snakes that came underneath his skirt. Out of interest, I created eyes within my esophagus, so that I could see what exactly I was eating.

It appeared that Gwyndolin's lower half was just a cluster of snakes, coiled together like the twisted roots of a tree, and if you looked up his skirt, you could see that those snake coils eventually became soft pale skin and that skin turned into flesh and muscle and bone that formed two beautiful legs. Oh, it appears that although he is male, he does not have that organ. How interesting. Perhaps it was removed from him when they decided to raise him as a girl.

No matter. I will be enjoying my time with him. He does not appear to be screaming. It is boring to consume a creature that remains silent. I will be seeing what I can do to make him scream. I will violate him in many ways. To start, I will alter the structure of my innards, particularly this esophagus that I have created, so that I can treat him to things that he has never before imagined. And I will keep him conscious throughout this whole time so that he can feel the sensation of these violations, and being able to hear his screams will be exciting and stimulating.

"I must hear you cry," I said, creating another orifice from which I could produce sound in the form of words. "I must hear you scream."

Gwyndolin remained silent.

"Very well."

My insides twisted, and the snakes were trapped in this twisting passage inside of me. I twisted so hard that the snakes were ripped off of Gwyndolin's legs. A loud cry emitted from Gwyndolin's lips. Yes, yes. I needed to hear that. I needed to hear a good scream. Pontiff Sulyvahn would never scream every time I had my way with him. I did not eat the Pontiff, of course, because he was powerful and loyal and served me. But I enjoyed inflicting a good deal of pain upon him, and yet he would never scream.

This God was weaker. He was already crying in pain, and all I had done was rip him apart. Was he truly so weak? Weak, fragile, and also pretty. What a beautiful mouth he had. A beautiful mouth, a beautiful voice. Like a maiden. I will make him scream louder. I must demolish his very spirit. His resilience cannot continue. He must succumb to me completely before I have fully consumed him...

I grew a great many thin, slimy tentacles in the passage within me. They were like probing fingers. The tentacles erupted through the esophagus, and upon finding Gwyndolin, wrapped around him, constricting his body. I will tear him apart. Not too quickly. If I break all of his bones, he will just die. I ought to avoid crushing any of his internal organs. That can wait until later. I probed with these tentacles until I found orifices to insert into. I went into them and fiddled around until I felt a reaction in Gwyndolin. He was shaking now. Shaking, wincing, clenching his teeth and fists.

"Stop..." Gwyndolin uttered, despite the tentacle that I had stuck down his throat.

I did not stop.

I ravaged him, and I knew from experience that some men loved to be ravaged. Of course, they probably preferred to be ravaged by something that was not a giant shapeshifting mass of sludge. I usually do not care for that preference, however. I am indeed a rather strange creature. Not many things in this Age tend to look like piles of mud. But that shall soon change. The Age of Deep is coming to replace this futile Age of Fire. The things that I have seen in my vision, the things from the Deep, they are all like my current form. They are brown and slug-shaped. They are the creatures that will take over and destroy all remnants of life from the current Age so that they can become the dominant form of life in the new one.

Gwyndolin continued to scream, and I continued to ravage. It was the most satisfying experience to hear a God cry. I had always wanted a God to be at my mercy. Now, I was beginning the process of consumption. With my tentacles deep within him, I can start to slowly absorb him by breaking down the matter that formed him and turning it into the matter that formed me.

I shall crush all his organs, then I shall make my way to his head, where I will implant my own consciousness into his mind, overriding his own. Then I will have truly devoured a God.

"No...Aldrich..."

Gwyndolin's voice was fading. His resistance was finally coming to an end. I will still keep him conscious, of course, so that he can suffer while I consume him. But I have won. It was not even a difficult battle. I think, perhaps, I will look for bigger and even more powerful creatures to consume after this. Maybe Pontiff Sulyvahn will let me have my way with that giant that he says lives in the ruined city far below Irithyll Dungeon.

Actually, I can do whatever I want. Nothing in this Age can stop me. I can even eat the Pontiff if I wanted to. I could consume the entire world. Yes, that is what I shall do. I will become the catalyst that crafts the Age of the Deep. The sludge of my body will cover the surface of the world. It is from this sludge that the new creatures, the creatures of the Deep, will arise. I will be the creator of all things. I will be above existence itself.

Nothing in this Age can stop me.


	2. The Unkindled

I was roosting in my room in Anor Londo, slowly devouring what remained of Gwyndolin. As the days pass, I have begun to notice a curious change in my environment. The floor has grown wet, and puddles form in the places that I have crawled. I have dug my body deep into the ground so that I can rest while I digest my food. The insects beneath the soil, and particularly maggots, are drawn to me, and they cling to my flesh, burying deep into me, as if they want to partake in the rot that exists deep within my form. All around me, I see the walls beginning to decay. Stone turns into dust. Metals rust. A thin, slimy water has crept into the structure of this place. The Deep has begun the process of taking over Anor Londo.

These are all things that I have predicted. I have seen the state of the world become thus in my visions. Soon, everyone shall see as well. The Deep will come, and it will consume this world. It is not Light, nor Dark, that shall inherit this world, but rather the things born of the Deep. The things that will be born from me, from my flesh, once I have devoured all. Already I see them taking form. Pieces of sludge, hungry to devour the living, separate themselves from my great mass and crawl up the walls, eventually hanging themselves from the ceilings. These creatures will take their time to wait for their prey. They will wait, until beings of flesh - sacrifices brought to me - walk below them, and then they fall, and then they will consume that flesh.

A great beast has appeared in Anor Londo. Like the sludges, these beasts hang from the ceilings, hanging by their long, thin, black-furred legs. Their eyes glow yellow, and skulls line their necks. They, too, are born of me. When they breathe, they exhale a pale yellow gas that corrupts the bodies of living creatures. The living will die imminently from exposure to this gas - if they are not killed by the creature's powerful claws and fangs first.

I relay all of these things to the one that currently feeds me. Gwyndolin has spent many days inside my body. Most of the time, he is unconscious. But he is not yet dead. I feel a vibration, a stirring from him often when I resume my feeding. During those times, I sense a great pain erupt from within his body. It is not only the physical pain of being devoured, but also the pain that lies within the sorrow of loss. He knows the state of affairs in Anor Londo. The halls that were once the marvellous home of the Gods have succumbed to my servants of the Deep. Anor Londo is my home now, the Gods long ago. Soon, the Gods will also be forgotten. But it is fine. I do not feel sympathy for the creatures that feed me. I enjoy their pain. I wish to hurt them more, and I relish in their suffering. Complete despair is my gift upon them. I cannot wait for the moment when I will finally finish devouring Gwyndolin. His last shudders of life will certainly be the greatest pleasure.

Just the other day, the Pontiff paid me a visit. He warned me that the Unkindled have risen to bring the Lords of Cinder back to their thrones. I was still feeding at that time, and I did not wish to be interrupted, so I told him to take care of any trespassers of Anor Londo. Soon after, the Pontiff bowed and left. This meeting reminded me that I was, indeed, a Lord of Cinder. The thought brought me back to the days before my death, the days when I was still mortal. I had engaged in rampant cannibalism back then, just as I do now, and thus I had already begun the process of taking my current form.

I remember the sacrifices that were brought to me, day after day - young and delicious mortals. Their flesh, which had not yet dried up from hollowing, were what I longed to consume. The tastiest ones were the children. It is not only because their meat is the most delectable. It is also because of their fear. I remember the look in their eyes when they were brought before me. Eyes that were so wide, so innocent, so full of terror. It gave me great pleasure to look upon those eyes. It also gave me great pleasure to snatch them within my bosom, to hear them scream, and to see their faces contort with agony as I begin devouring them. The eyes, I would eat last, so that I could relish in their fright until the very end.

I tried to savour their taste, but being children, I often finished eating them too fast. Sometimes, my loyal deacons delivered so many of them to me that I simply could not remember which ones I had not eaten yet. I vaguely recall a day where I had a great feast, with twenty five children delivered to me. I sampled parts of each of them - a limb from one, an ear from another - and left them lying there, bleeding, so that they could suffer a little before I finished eating them. But there were too many children, and I could not remember which ones I had eaten and which ones I hadn't. As a result, two of them escaped from me, and I never saw them again. I vaguely remember their names. One, I believe, was called Anri, and the other was Horace.

Nevertheless, all this lies in the past. Today, and for many days to come, I feast upon a God. And, when I am done with this feast, I will have grown powerful enough to bring about the coming age of the Deep. I will devour all. Enough rumination. Now, to return to my feast.

I hear noises outside. It sounds like there is an intruder upon this great hall. My deacons are fighting them off now. I hear their spells of fire, bursting against the walls. My living flesh are dropping from the ceiling, hungry to consume. The spider beast has awoken as well. It has heard the sound of the large double doors opening.

The noises continue. Fire is exploding everywhere. I hear a great cry, and I sense the death of the spider beast. Then, the cries of my deacons as they fall, one after another, to what appears to be the singing of a blade. The intruder is a mighty one. They have carved through my deacons with ease. They have made their way to the stairs before my room. My final deacons greet them with a wave of fire. But, I only hear the cry of my deacons as they are sliced apart. Now, the intruder is approaching me, interrupting me from my feast. It is now the moment of our meeting.

They enter, a knight in elite armour, brandishing a long straight sword. But, now, I hear another noise. I see something else, appearing beside them.

"I thought it might be you..."

"...No, this only bolsters my resolve."

"Please, lend me your strength."

"Help me vanquish Aldrich, the man-eating fiend."

It was a surprisingly familiar voice. I felt as if I had seen that knight before. The two of them rushed at me, and I rose up from my feast, propping up the body of Gwyndolin as well. I can control Gwyndolin. I make him fire his Darkmoon Bow to the ceiling. A cluster of clouds appear before me, and arrows rain down, chasing after the two intruders. They skillfully dodge the arrows. Then, they charge at me again, slashing at my body with their weapons. Their blades sting, and I slam my scythe to the floor, creating a portal for me to escape into.

I emerge on the opposite end of the room, my body glowing with ember. Again, I fire my arrows. The shot is much more powerful this time, bolstered by my newfound strength, and the arrows chase after them more viciously. The knight is struck and pinned to the ground. Arrows blast them one after another, and I imagine that they would be dead soon. But, to my surprise, when the volley has finished, they rise up to their feet, drinks from a flask, and looks as if they are well again.

I slam my scythe into the ground and escape again. But, somehow, when I rise out of the ground, they are already rushing as me, as if they had predicted where I would appear. They strike me again with their blows, and I begin to feel pain. In panic, I fire blasts of sorcery at them, knocking one of them over. They rise to their feet once more. I swoop down, aiming to steal some of their life with my scythe. I slash the knight, and their life force surges through my body, refilling my power. The two of them retreat to drink, their feet burned by the fires emanating out of my form. I escape again.

I do not know what to do.

I cannot leave this room. This room is my throne, my domain. They are intruders. I must kill them.

Who sent them?

How could they fight with such resolve?

Are the Unkindled truly so courageous?

I rise out of the ground and am greeted with blow after blow by their weapons. I attempt to strike back, but I cannot hit them. Their strikes overwhelm me with pain. I am beginning to feel that this is the end.

I raise my scythe once more.

There is a devastating blow upon me, and suddenly, I feel as if I am about to fall apart. I can fight no longer. My body is disintegrating into ash. I am about to die.

I do not wish to die.

Before the dark claims me, I hear a voice. The knight is speaking again to their companion.

"I owe this to you. Thank you. Truly."

"Horace, we've done it, we really have..."


End file.
